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  Ship grapevine again, thought Wanda, I’d better tell everyone on board what’s happened else they’ll be adding two and two and making ten out of it. She nodded at them as she passed and their anxious faces watched her pass.

  A deep breath and she entered the bridge.

  Denis looked up, “no reply yet and no deviation to their approach either.”

  Wanda stared open eyed at the hazy shape on the bulkhead-screen. Stars, it was big, a huge squat mass of menace and it was coming in fast, really fast. She looked at the moving figures on the bottom right of the screen as they flickered with the computer’s calculations on the decreasing distance.

  “Speed has remained the same too,” Denis added.

  Indecision was not a prerogative of a ship’s captain.

  “I’ll make a short broadcast to the ship,” she said, “then I’ll give my orders to the crew. Colony sections?”

  “Section heads are gathering their people in to the safety areas. I’m waiting for the word that they’re ready, then I’ll close the final airlocks.”

  “Very good,” said Wanda, “any panic?”

  “Couple of minor incidents, that’s all,” he replied, “mostly parents being separated from their children.”

  Wanda nodded, “open the ship-wide comms link.”

  Soon her voice of calm was being heard throughout the ship. She had no way of knowing the individual reactions to her words but she hoped they would stem incipient panic.

  Like her crew and passengers she could only to wait.

  On the bridge the tension continued to mount.

  What were the aliens going to do?

  There had been no attempt by them to make contact. They had ignored all the Melbourne’s ‘First Contact Signals’ although the bridge crew knew that they must have received them.

  There was mounting trepidation as the bulkhead-screens filled with the rapidly clearing image of the massive ship.

  “It is definitely slowing down now,” announced the communications ensign, her eyes remaining transfixed to the screen as her fingers continued to transmit the hailing messages, “the bounce back bleeps are not getting any closer.”

  The Melbourne shuddered.

  Not friendly at all, thought Wanda recognising its cause for what it was, a missile of some sort hitting the hull. “Engines stop,” she ordered, “all power to the outer shielding mechanisms.”

  “We’ll lose manoeuvrability,” Denis warned.

  “They’re bigger and faster than us,” she replied, “and armed. Trying to outrun them is not an option.”

  * * * * *

  The ponderous bulk of the alien vessel edged closer. It did not fire another missile, as Wanda knew, one was enough. There was no way the Melbourne was a match for their ship and she (and presumably they) knew it. This ship, clear visuals were available now it was so close, was simply bristling with weaponry.

  Not friendly at all.

  Wanda’s only chance was to persuade the occupants aboard that the Melbourne was no threat and to try and persuade them to let them go.

  But how?

  * * * * *

  Aboard the Ammokko, the Dglai were preparing to board. They were not interested in negotiations. They wanted the Melbourne and what it contained, animate and inanimate.

  * * * * *

  Up until she was informed about the grapples, Wanda had entertained some hope that even though there had been no overt response to their hails, that whomsoever was inside was at least not unfriendly. Okay, there had been the missile, but it had done little damage, glancing off the Melbourne’s thick underbelly. A warning shot, Wanda had decided, not so politely requesting them to heave to.

  Perhaps they only want to know what we look like. Perhaps after they will let us go when they see that we are no threat to them? Perhaps. Perhaps. No other missiles have followed the first. With all that weaponry they could have blasted us into fragments by now if they’d wanted to.

  What kind of creatures are they? Big? Small? Reptilian? Birdlike? One eye or two, or ten or twenty? No eyes at all?

  Stars, she’s a big one!

  * * * * *

  The alien ship came to a ponderous halt on the Melbourne’s starboard side.

  “Activate the starboard hull sound mikes,” ordered Wanda.

  Those on the bridge listened to the thuds and scrabbles as the Dglai’s grappling mechanisms latched on.

  No longer did any one of them believe that the alien creatures were friendly.

  “Warn Leftenant Haslett.”

  Down on the starboard lower deck Leftenant Haslett and his team were waiting.

  “Not friendly at all,” said Wanda aloud and meeting Denis MacBrayne’s eye. “Inform the colonists to remain in their emergency areas.”

  He understood what she was not saying.

  Wanda shrugged in answer, “they didn’t even attempt a parley.”

  “Do you see their hull?” exclaimed one of the bridge crew, a young ensign, “it’s all patched and dented.”

  “An old ship,” commented another to no one in particular, his gaze on Wanda, she was the Captain; she would know what to do.

  But Wanda didn’t and her face showed it.

  “Open the link to Haslett,” she ordered, “divert it through the bridge tannoy and keep it open so we can all hear.”

  Leftenant Haslett was both calm and dependable, his voice, with its running commentary came over …

  < They’re trying to break through the airlock on AG deck. Keep calm everyone. We don’t know they’re definitely unfriendly. Don’t fire until I give the order. Brown, did you hear what I said? That’s better, now remember, they’ll only be able to get through one at a time, the opening will not be that large. Course I’m sure man, stands to reason. >

  There was a pause ...

  < Yes. The seals are holding but not for much longer. Oxygen on. Safety-catches off. >

  Wanda could see in her mind’s eye the forty pulling their safety visors into place and pulling at the toggles connecting their helmets to their oxygen cylinders. She knew also that they were wearing their grav-boots so that if the area became decompressed they would be able to keep their feet. They wouldn’t be able to run but they would be able to move and more importantly, to fight.

  All Wanda and the others could do was to listen and wait as Leftenant Haslett directed the men and women under his command to take up defence positions along the sides of the corridor behind him. Wanda would know if decompression occurred from the bridge as the sensors reacted and emitted their shrill warning.

  < They’re almost through. Get ready. >

  < Stars afire! The decompress gauge isn’t moving at all, they must have some sort of seal over the airlock. >

  < What’s that? >

  < Captain, they’ve inserted some sort of long rod through the hole. Must be testing the atmosphere. Wonder if it’s to their liking. Right, they’re removing it. Get ready men! >

  Wanda , Denis and the others could hear hammering noises through the tannoy.

  < Hear that Captain? That’s the air-lock breaking down. >

  < Get Ready. >

  Wanda heard the air-door fall in then some unknown noises and the first cries of disbelief, then an infinitesimal silence as Leftenant Haslett frantically caught at his disarranged thoughts.

  < They’re huge! Big and green … with wings. Dragons. By all that’s holy … dragons. Bloody big dragons at that. >

  < What are they doing Leftenant? >

  < Standing staring at us. >

  < Try to engage them in communication. >

  Silence.

  < They’re carrying some sort of spout things in their arms. Look like they might be some kind of weapons but nothing like I’ve ever seen before. Stand fast you men. >

  Wanda and the others heard the roars and the shouts of panic.

  < Fall back. Fall back. >

  Leftenant Haslett continued to call out his orders to retreat and Wanda knew by his laboured breath th
at he was falling back with his men and women.

  < Fall back. Behind that bulkhead. Hurry. Hell, these things are blasting out great gouts of flame. Leave him Brown, he’s dead. >

  Short, sharp breaths as Wanda rightly interpreted as him leading the survivors behind the big bulkhead on AG deck.

  < They’ve incinerated about a dozen. Whole front rank has gone. Rifles aren’t having much effect, they’re too big and are wearing some kind of plate armour. >

  < Get out Leftenant, up to the next deck. Use the stern access shaft. >

  < Wilco. >

  Wanda winced as she heard the cries and shouts of pain, mercifully short, as those who were left fought their way to the shaft.

  < It’s no good Captain. They’ve got us covered. Close all the access shaft hatches. We’re goners but we’ll take as many with us as we can. Good luck to you all. >

  Wanda looked at Denis who was fiddling with the comms link. He cut the tannoy connection and the bridge went silent.

  “Do as he says,” she ordered, “close the emergency airlocks.”

  “Will they be able to get out?” asked one of the younger members of the bridge crew, her voice tinged with fear.

  “They’re a metre thick,” said the actual youngest, his face one of shocked apprehension.

  Each deck and section on the Melbourne was designed to be able to survive on its own in case of a major hull breach, the lower deck hatches being especially thick. In fact, above AG deck was the major rib of the ship’s frame.

  That’ll hold them for a time. She raised her eyebrows in Denis’s direction and he shook his head.

  “They’re dead,” he said and cut his own comms link.

  Wanda nodded, glad that she hadn’t had to listen to that heroic last stand. Denis had though and her second in command was white faced and grief-stricken at the demise of his ship-mates. “Colony sections are asking what’s happened,” he told her.

  “Tell them it’s under control.”

  “They know all the emergency hatches and doors are tight.”

  What do I do next? What can I do next?

  “Ma’am?”

  “We wait,” she answered. “Keep all comms links open to the colony sections but one-way. I want to hear what they are saying. Engine Room?”

  “We’re in contact,” answered the shaking comms ensign. “Don’t know for how long .. I think … no … shit … they’ve broken into one of the mainframe connectors. Shit, shit, shit. Can’t get through to Engineering. I’ll run a diagnostic.”

  His fingers rattled over his console.

  “Connection is severed,” he reported after a tense few minutes, “all along the bottom decks of the ship, but Ma’am what if they destroy the main cable-connectors that run along the length of the ship above AG deck? I can divert some of it through the upper decks but that’ll take time.”

  “Do it, divert as much as you can,” ordered Wanda, “I need to speak to Engineering.”

  “External monitors dis-functioning now Captain,” said Denis.

  “Can we enter the engineering executive codes from here if we don’t manage to restore comms?”

  He shook his head, “no, I always said it was crass stupidity to put the main data links along the one cable processor.”

  “The Melbourne’s designers never thought something like this would happen,” she answered, “what is in effect akin to a hull breach along the entire length of the ship. Do what you can Denis.”

  * * * * *

  Days passed and the ‘dragons’ made no further move to invade the rest of the ship. When the crew listened in at them from the deck above they could hear faint sounds of movement, thuds and bangs but they had no idea what they were doing. By the third day most of the comms links had been diverted and communications were re-established. Once she had got through to Engineering Wanda ordered them to place a stasis on the power-core, not decommissioning it entirely, they might still get out of this if these aliens decided they had what they needed and decided to go away but enough to make it unusable unless the correct codes were entered.

  Tempers got frayed during the endless discussions about what to do next.

  All attempts to make contact with the invaders were ignored.

  On the fifth day they lost contact with the provisions section where was kept the water, the livestock and the growing edibles. One moment they had been talking with its crewmembers, animal handlers and growers, the next, silence.

  “Well, that’s that,” announced Wanda when she was informed. “They’re going to take us out section by section. How long do we have before food and water runs out?”

  “Two weeks,” was Denis’s gloomy reply, “two weeks of this interminable waiting! I don’t think I’ll be able to stand it.”

  “Colonists?”

  “Resigned for the most part.”

  “Better send the beacon off while we can,” said Wanda.

  “Why bother, we’re too far away, they’ll never find it.”

  “Probably not, but you never know. Some day perhaps our people might get this far out. Enter all the information you have about these dragons, visuals too.”

  “Visuals?”

  “Of dragons,” explained Wanda patiently. “There must be some reference to dragons in the library reference banks. Try under fairy stories and legends.”

  * * * * *

  Wanda dismissed the bridge crew.

  “I’d rather stay here,” said Denis, realising that Wanda had decided to remain on her own on the bridge.

  Wanda smiled, “bring in your family then, they can have my ready cabin.”

  He left to get his family.

  Within the hour the bridge was deserted of crew and Denis’s young family were running around this previously sacrosanct place, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

  Later a few others of the bridge crew returned, those with no families, Spacefleet was their family. They congregated together in one corner, talking of past times.

  If their plight hadn’t been so dire Wanda would have enjoyed the informality of it all.

  Then all the communications links failed. Each section of the Melbourne now existed in isolation.

  “It’s the not knowing that’s the worst,” said Lane, Denis’s young wife and Wanda agreed. “If only they’d come and get it over with,” she added, “or are we just to be left to die or what?”

  “We’ve the sleep gas,” said Denis in a voice devoid of emotion.

  “We’ll use it when we have to,” Wanda told them. “Before comms failed the Section Heads were considering it.”

  With the data lines down there was no way to execute the sleep-gas procedures, the final resort, from the bridge. It would be up to each Colony Section Head to decide whether to use it or not. Wanda rather thought they would. Better the calm sleep of death than to face these dragons awake. At least the air continued to blow in. Suffocation was a horrible way to die.

  They must be oxygen breathing like us.

  * * * * *

  Wanda didn’t know it but the bridge was the last area on the ship where anyone remained alive. All the Section Heads had opened the sleep gas vents as food and water began to run out.

  The dragons didn’t even try to fight their way into each section. Perhaps they understood that these strange two-legged space-travellers would take the sleep gas option having found a supply of it in one of the lower holds. They were in no hurry. It had taken them some time to empty the re-provisioning sections of everything edible and of anything that might possibly be useful.

  Only then did they begin to break down the hatches to the other sections and begin to strip them too.

  Wanda and the others would have been distraught to learn that ‘anything edible’ included the bodies of the colonists and crew once under her care and command.

  The Dglai left the bridge until last.

  The inner door to the bridge was made of a reinforced perspex substance.

  Wanda and the others heard the outer door give
.

  “It is time,” said Wanda as she cut the seal on the sleep gas canister and the gas began to hiss out.

  She placed the canister on the ground at her feet and looked over at the door.

  A large green creature looked in at her. She could see the glint in its eyes as it peered inside. The first tendrils of sleep gas reached her nostrils and she forced herself to take a deep breath. She gave the creature a finger gesture of contempt as her legs gave way beneath her and she saw the head start back with surprise.

  Final sleep overcame her. She was dead by the time the Dglai began dragging the bodies outside.

  * * * * *

  The Dglai looked round with deserted bridge with greedy dispassion.

  “A profitable excursion,” the leader said to his companions. “It would have been more interesting if they had tried to fight us, a puny species they are, no fight in them, no match for us Dglai.”

  “We are omnipotent!”

  “We are indestructible!”

  “We are Dglai!”

  * * * * *

  THE LAI, FACT OR FICTION?

  An Extract from a Dissertation

  (Author: Landis Retwick, Emeritus Professor of Literature, University of Stewarton. Extracted from ‘A Collection of Scholarly Works.’ [Stewarton Press AL 562])